


The Perfect Day, The Perfect Way

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Genre: after the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 00:17:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20054923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Perfection was so hard to find.  The perfect day, the perfect words, the perfect present, the perfect village.  Most people settled for something less than perfection.  These two men, though, they weren't willing to settle.  They were determined to find what they were looking for.  But what would that mean for Craig Garrison, his men, and those around them?





	The Perfect Day, The Perfect Way

MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, USA -

Joey had been a sniper in the war, and afterwards he'd told Mikey all about it. Mikey remembered sitting there, enthralled as his big brother told about his harrowing assignments with the army. 

Sometimes, Joey would tell him, he'd be sitting for hours waiting for the perfect shot. Sometimes he'd be dashing into position only moments before the target got into view. In each retelling, Joey had gotten that look in his eyes, licked his trembling lips, his breath hastening, as he recounted his emotions, not only in the lead-up but at the moment of pulling the trigger, as well as afterwards. The praise he'd get for his skill, for getting the job done. 

Mikey had just been turning seventeen when Joey had come home from the war, too young to have served, but not too young to have wanted to - had even tried to enlist by lying about his age, but his parents had caught on and stepped in preventing him from getting away with it.

Now, ever since he'd gotten home, Joey lived more in the past than in the present, and Mikey could understand that, even though his parents didn't seem to. 

Well, what else was there for a hero like his brother? There weren't too many job openings in Minneapolis for a hero, a sniper with a near-perfect record. Even the library, with its collection of out-of-town newspapers, didn't offer any hope, and Mikey should know. After all, he had looked through the Want Ads in each and every one of them, week after week, trying to find something that would appeal to his brother. 

Somehow, there just didn't seem to be anyone looking for a sniper these days. Even the one that wanted an 'explosives expert', which Joey was also pretty good at, was for some police department wanting someone to defuse explosives, not set them off. 

Mikey had to look up the word 'defuse', and then complained to Joey about the newspaper having to use big words instead of saying what they meant! 

"They just could have said 'stop' in the first place!"

The brothers agreed that was a pretty dumb idea, anyhow; the whole point of having explosives was for them to go off, after all. What was the point of STOPPING them??!

Mikey had even planned on moving WITH Joey if the right job came up. Well, he wasn't seventeen now; his parents couldn't interfere anymore, could they? And he was tired of them telling him what to do, trying to get him to go out and do other things, rather than spend all his time with Joey.

He sure didn't intend to stay here without his big brother; they'd been apart too many years as it was, and he was really, really tired of hearing his parents trying to get Joey to be something other than what he was meant to be, what he was just so doggone good at! Even bringing in others to try and convince Joey to let go of the past, start fresh. He'd even overheard them about 'finding a place for Joey, someplace where they'd understand better, maybe. Find him some way to get over it.'

Boy, they just didn't get it! You don't just step away from being a hero with a real important job to do, to becoming a bank clerk or a baker's assistant, or something like that! How the heck do you 'get over' being a hero, doing all that great stuff??! Why SHOULD you??!

It was just a crying shame, Mikey thought, with all Joey had done, that now there was nothing left, nothing but the memories. All that skill, just sitting there in that darkened room with his brother. 

If Joey could have stayed in the army, that would have been best, or so Mikey thought; it only figures that the army would have plenty of people it thought it would be best to send a sniper after. But for some reason, the army hadn't gone along with that notion. Some nonsense about a 'profile', not that Mikey knew what that was. Even sent Joey home before the war was even over, for crying out loud, like his job was done.

All he knew, all Joey knew, was that the army, hell, the whole damned country was just damned ungrateful! After all Joey had done for them, to just push him aside! That had really hurt Joey, Mikey could tell, and it made him mad as hell. Both of them were mad about it, though they only talked about it to each other. Their parents just didn't understand, got real upset about the whole thing. 

Why, they wouldn't even listen anymore when Joey told his favorite story, about that village, the one Joey called 'the perfect village'. Their mother had gasped and started crying not even halfway through, his father taking her away but coming back to try and 'reason' with Joey, like what Joey was saying, what he'd done was wrong somehow.

Well, how could it be so wrong, that's what Mikey didn't understand. Joey had gotten a medal after coming back from that job, something with a fancy name and all. Oh, yeah, a 'Purple Heart', that's what it was called. No, their parents were just old, didn't understand what being a hero really was.

Sometimes, listening to Joey talk about that perfect village, Mikey could almost see it in his mind. A small place, quiet streets, not much in the way of businesses but quite a few little houses. Everyone out on the grass in the center, laughing and acting like there wasn't even a war going on. Music coming from somewhere, and men giving speeches and all those people, just going here and there, not doing much important, just wandering around like the dumb ducks they were, not KNOWING Joey was watching. 

Dumb, that's what HE'D call it! He was sure HE'D know if someone was training a rifle on him; any smart person would. That's what Joey had said, anyhow. 

"Too dumb to live. Didn't even speak American, any of them! Doing them a favor, that's what I figured I was doing. Anyhow, HQ said it looked like some in that village were helping the enemy; they figured it was the mayor or the head councilman, or whatever the dumb foreigners called themselves; said I should take them two out while they were up there giving their fancy speeches for that dumb celebration they were having soon.

"But you know, Mikey, sometimes those guys up at HQ, they just thought small, know what I mean? Maybe it wasn't just the mayor or that councilman, maybe there was more. Made sense there'd be more. No, the only smart thing was to put a good scare into the whole damned place, teach them to keep out of things they didn't have any business messing in. Teach them not to screw around with us!

"So, that's what I did! Of course, I had to tell those guys that I'd found out there was lots more people involved, and that I'd taken care of them too, and they were so happy to have the job done, they didn't even question it. Just patched me up, gave me that medal and sent me home. I never did understand that, Mikey, just sent me back home instead of letting me do some more good work like that. Guess they weren't so smart either!"

Well, Mikey could see that. Now Joey, he was smart, always had been. Yeah, teaching them a good lesson, that was the way to get things done!

He'd seen how excited Joey got, every time he'd tell his stories, and felt it was a real shame Joey didn't get to do anything like that anymore. Everyone deserved to be able to do something that made them feel good, and it didn't seem like anything else really did the job for Joey anymore. Mikey had tried - baseball, bowling, cards, lot of stuff, but nothing had worked. 

So he figured he'd MAKE some excitement for Joey, let them plan a job just like Joey used to do, something to make his big brother feel good again. And it wasn't all that hard, either, especially when he'd spotted that pair of rifles over at the pawn shop. Just like what Joey used to use, looked like to him. He thought about buying one of them, but didn't want old man Ferguson to get wise, so he just went back after hours and jimmied the back door lock. Ended up taking both of them, what with them just sitting there. That old man really needed to put a better lock on his doors if he didn't want his stuff just walking off; really his own fault, when you thought about it. 

And, oh boy, when Mikey handed over that first rifle, was Joey excited to see it! Would sit and hold it, stroking his hands over it, telling his stories, and that's when Mikey figured it was time to give his big brother a birthday present like he'd never forget. Well, not ON his birthday exactly. Their parents would be around then, but they were headed off to visit his dad's folks right after, and Joey made the grandparents nervous, so Mikey and Joey were staying behind. 

Mikey carefully counted out his money. He'd been saving for a real long time, not having anything special to spend it on, and there was Joey's discharge money, and what his father kept in that box under the floorboards, and his mother's special stash in the kitchen cabinet. 

Squinting over those prices he'd copied down, counting the money again, he figured they'd just be able to make it. Get there, get what they needed, find just the right spot.

Oh, not to Germany or France or anyplace like where Joey'd done his work before; there wasn't enough for that, and besides, Mikey didn't speak whatever gobbledegook they spoke in those foreign places. 

But England - now, that should be good enough. They were foreigners there, too, just like what Joey had always been pointed to, but at least Mikey figured he could understand enough, make himself understood enough for him and Joey to get around easy enough. 

And from what he read in that book from the library, there were bunches of little villages there, just like the one Joey had told him about. And it sounded like they were always having some kind of dumb celebration - 'market days', 'festivals', stuff like that.

They'd get to England, steal a car and just start driving. They'd find the perfect place, he was sure of it. A place just like that little village his brother still dreamed about.

Yeah, he'd give Joey one bang-up birthday present!

BRANDONSHIRE, ENGLAND:

"Hey, stopping worrying. You'll see. They'll love it, whatever you decide to do," Casino reassured a fretting Goniff. 

Goniff wasn't totally convinced. He had gotten the brilliant idea of celebrating what he considered his and Meghada's and Craig's 'anniversary', the date Goniff and the other guys had made it back to the Cottage after the military had pulled that double-cross, sent them all back to prison, the day Craig had first worn that claiming collar right out in the open for everyone to see.

But though Goniff often got what he considered brilliant ideas (that wasn't always what other people called them, but that's another story!), and usually didn't have any difficulty in putting it all into place, (if with sometimes varying results), this time it was different. This time it needed to be PERFECT!

Problem was, he just couldn't quite visualize what 'perfect' would entail, though he had lots of ideas, discarding them one by one, only to latch onto another, before landing on what he figured would be just right. He'd brought the guys in on the project, first swearing them to total secrecy. 

"Don't want Craig or 'Gaida getting wind of it; 'as to be a real surprise! Least, the anniversary part of it!"

Well, considering what they each remembered about Goniff and his previous 'brilliant' plans, they each figured it would likely be a surprise, no matter what was involved. 

Goniff did a lot of what people called 'thinking outside the box'. Garrison had remarked, somewhat ruefully, more than once, that "the thing is, sometimes he gets so far 'outside', he forgets where he left the box! Sometimes, even what the box looked like in the first place!"

But this time it didn't seem anything too untoward. The pickpocket had talked Ben Miller, who was the local constable and unofficial mayor of the village, into holding a 'village festival' on that date. Well, there usually was one about that time of year anyway; Ben didn't see any problem with scheduling it for that particular day.

"There's to be music, like 'Gaida loves, and Mrs. Wilson's to put together that peach and hazelnut cobbler Craig likes so much, and Sheila the cottage pie that 'e always 'as seconds on w'en she makes it for the socials. 'Gaida likes seeing all the local crafts, talking to those w'at makes them all, so she'll like all the booths. So there's to be lots going on, and Craig and 'Gaida will just think all the activity is cause of that," Goniff had explained to Chief with an enthusiastic gleam in his blue eyes. 

Well, that made sense. Garrison and the guys, along with Meghada, had been drawn into the plans for the charity auction, and the musicians, and all the booths, and the big potluck meal in the early afternoon, and all the rest. 

"So, isn't that enough?" Chief had asked. "You can just tell them afterwards that you thought all that up and got Ben to help, so everyone could join in, but that you really did it especially for them."

Goniff got a way too familiar stubborn set to his face. "Aint enough, Chiefy. Oh, I'll do that, right enough. But there's got to be more. Something more important. But can't just stop the music and stand up there in front of everyone and say what needs to be said, you know, even though that's w'at I'd LIKE to do."

Chief had a quizzical look now. "And what do you need to say?"

Goniff flushed and looked a little sheepish. "YOU know. About 'ow important they both are to me; about 'ow I wouldn't be 'ere, most likely wouldn't 'ave made it through without knowing they were there waiting for me. Well, of course, wouldn't 'ave made it through without you and the guys, either; I know that, but this, this is different," looking at Chief anxiously, to be sure his friend understood that there was no disrespect intended. 

Well, there was no question of that; Chief understood him better than most, had from early on. Now Chief just smiled, and reassured him, "yeah, maybe, but we wouldn't a made it through without you, either, most likely. So, that's all you're wanting to say?" thinking that seemed fine, but a little slim for all the turmoil churning round inside his friend.

Goniff shook his head vigorously. "Oh, no. There's lots more, just don't know quite 'ow to say it all, or w'en, you know? Like, w'at it's like, knowing no matter 'ow much I want and need them, they seem to want and need me just as much, no matter 'ow unlikely that is. 'Ow that's not something I ever figured I'd 'ave. About waking up and knowing I'm 'ome, when I don't ever recall even 'AVING a place I really called that before. About being able to get in a bad mood, and not 'aving to 'ide it away, anymore than I 'ave to 'ide it when I'm 'appy, or feeling a little - well, frisky, you know??"

Chief gave one of his rare laughs. "You mean like you get every night, and most every day - THAT kinda 'frisky'?"

Goniff flushed, but grinned right along with it. "Yeah, well, they DO tend to send my mind in that direction, the both of them. But there's other things too. Not minding my talking so much. 'Aving decent food on the table, and no one yelling I'm eating too much - teasing, sure, but not getting mad or slamming things around because of it. All KINDS of things, Chiefy! Just 'ow do you say all of that?!! And I want it to be PERFECT!"

Chief thought, but for the moment just couldn't come up with anything. Well, that WAS a lot to be trying to tell someone, but he still thought perfection was a lot to be asking for. 

The day of the village festival dawned fair and clear, not a cloud in the sky. Everyone had a smile on their faces as they bustled around, making last minute preparations. The booths were to open at 9:00, with music starting at 11:00, followed by the charity auction for the benefit of the orphanage. The meal was to start at 1:00, and then more music to follow, with dancing on the green til everyone was too tired to go another step.

Chief noted that even Goniff seemed be in rare form, and he pulled the pickpocket aside to ask, "did you figure it out? What you want to say, I mean, how and when?"

Goniff had nodded happily, "turned out I was making it too complicated, Chiefy, like Craig used to do, ya know? Figured out w'at would be just about perfect! Already made the arrangements and all!"

He hadn't said anything further, and Chief had just shrugged, figuring he'd know it when he saw it. I mean, how could you miss 'perfect'?

Chief kept waiting, seeing Goniff get a little more nervous as the day went along. The auction had just finished, with everyone in a great humor. There had been some of the oddest things being auctioned, but there were bidders aplenty, though some bidding goods or services instead of cash. Well, in a village like this, the barter system was alive and well, and the orphanage could use the extra wood for winter, and the hours of repairs that had been bid to keep the old building in good condition, and promised nature walks and stories for the kids, and the pints of jam, and bushels of oats, and all else.

Goniff drew in a deep breath, steadying his jittery nerves, and headed for the raised platform that had been used first for the musicians and then for the auctioneer. 

He'd grinned nervously when Ben Miller, who'd been acting as auctioneer, raised his hand for silence.

Ben smiled over at Goniff, the slender Englishman now fidgeting, obviously rethinking whether this was all that good an idea after all, then turned to the waiting crowd.

"Guess you should all know, this festival was all Goniff's idea. He's doing a little celebrating of his own, and wanted us all to share in the doing. He may, or may not tell you more - that's up to him. But I think we owe him the chance, and our thanks for us having such a good day."

Goniff tried to smile, but his nervousness won out and he looked a little green as the cheering and clapping ended and all eyes settled on him. Finally, a small rather sheepish smile did break out.

"'Ad it all planned out, you know, w'at I was going to say. Now . . . Well, now, just - I 'ope you all 'ave a real good time." And there was a long pause, then in a rush, "and wanted to say thanks. Craig, 'Gaida, you most of all, for just everything. And Chiefy, you too, and Casino and Actor. And everyone. You've made this 'ome. You've made everything per-----"

He never got to finish, a shot ringing out, causing him to cry out at the blow coming out of nowhere. First one shot, then another and another and another. A bevy of shots. The first threw Goniff to the wooden floor of the platform, his body jerking as a second bullet struck home. The next shot caused Ben Miller, frantically reaching for the fallen man, to gasp and land next to him. Craig was the third down, as he ran for the platform trying to get to the two men.

Those in the crowd screamed, grabbing the children, running for cover, some making it safely, some not. There was more blood flowing than the war itself had brought to this small village, and no time to assess the damages, not til the threat itself was removed.

Meghada cursed her skirts, the fact that she had no weapon at hand other than her own self. Rolling, she ended up at the line of booths to the side, making for the blacksmith's display, those sharp fireplace tools, grabbing what she thought would be of most use, a shorter-than-usual poker with an uncommonly wicked spike at one end and a fist-sized iron knob at the other.

Taking a quick assessing look at the area, she pinpointed where the shots had to be coming from. Well, she'd served as a sniper on many an occasion, could read the angles as well as most in the profession.

She met Craig's eyes as he frantically rolled to one side, motioned to his team, them falling back into battle mode as if the war had been only yesterday instead of more than a year past. A fast motion of her hand, her head and she saw him pick out the target and nod in agreement, and head out, one hand grasping the growing red stain on the shoulder of his shirt. Looking back at the stage, at the green, she saw AJ Riley and Sheila, Mrs. Wilson and Alice Miller and others headed for the wounded, saw Gil Rawlins and Old Howie crawling across the stage to pull Goniff and Ben out of the line of fire. 

She wanted to be up there, seeing to Goniff, but her job was elsewhere, no matter her inclinations. She was a warrior, just as Garrison and his men were; most of these people weren't, and they had to be protected.

It had been surprisingly easy, taking down the two men with rifles. Somehow, the idea that anyone would be coming after them, that the village would fight back, they hadn't been expecting that, and they were quickly overpowered, the rifles yanked away.

The older of the two seemed to be in a daze, one not even accounted for by the hammer-hard blows Casino had slammed into him til Actor had pulled him away. 

The younger one, firmly in the grip of Chief and Meghada, he was crying, telling them that they had "ruined it all! It was his birthday present! It was supposed to be perfect, just like before, and you had to go and RUIN it! It's not fair. He deserved it to be perfect!!" 

His chin wobbled and he burst out with a wail, "and I was going to sing him 'Happy Birthday' when it was over! It would have been PERFECT!!"

Garrison had called in the constable from Bayside, and that shocked individual and three hastily-appointed assistants had taken the two into custody. The two doctors from Bayside had arrived at the same time, helping with the injured. Thankfully there were no fatalities, though several of those in the crowd had suffered injury of some degree. Ben Miller and Goniff were the most seriously injured, the first victims of the older brother, the one they'd found out had been a sniper during the war. Luckily the younger brother wasn't nearly so talented in that line; it seemed his shots had struck almost at random, hitting a living target more by accident than design.

"And if it wasn't for those rifle sights for the first one being off, then jamming, Goniff and Ben would have both been dead, maybe me too," Craig reported to the others, tossing down that stiff jolt of whiskey Meghada had poured him. 

He'd been drinking more than usual the past few days; well, they all had, and not just them. Business at the pub was heavier than usual, the crowd there quiet and subdued, the events of that day being recounted again and again. The pictures in their minds, they wouldn't be forgotten easily.

And not forgotten either were the words from Mikey Blake, pouring out the story of his brother, Joey - a hero, forgotten and mistreated by those 'ungrateful bastards' he'd served. A hero, misunderstood by his own family and community. Well, that was how Mikey looked at it; those listening had their own viewpoints that were not so much in charity with Mikey's view. 

"And this was the perfect place, a village just like the one he always said was so perfect. Dumb foreigners doing dumb things, just like he said. It was just a birthday present! It was gonna be the PERFECT birthday present! My brother is a hero! He deserved a good birthday. Don't know why you don't understand that, why you're so mad! Why you had to go and spoil everything!" the young man had whined at them as he had done before. 

As for Joey, it didn't take long to see that, as far as he was concerned, he had just been doing his job, had never stopped doing his job. 

He'd seemed more puzzled at first, then increasingly belligerent when he was being questioned. 

"Thought it was done, thought I'd handled that back in, in, well, a while back. But must not have, cause there they were, just like before, just like Mikey said they'd be, all out in the middle of that shithole of a village, acting silly, playing music and laughing, just like there wasn't a war going on. All acting like nothing had ever happened. Like they had the right, you know. Well, this time we showed them, me and my baby brother; we showed them, those damned foreigners! The mayor, that councilman, and lots others - we showed them good!"

The authorities would deal with the Blake brothers, notifying their family back home, the American embassy, whatever was needed. Brandonshire was left to deal with sweeping up the shattered remains of their festival day, tending to their wounded, trying to make some sense of what had happened and why.

And in the quietness of a darkened bedroom, a recovering Goniff had finally gotten the chance to say all he'd wanted to say that day. Well, he figured he had to, even if it wasn't maybe the perfect time or the perfect way. Those bullets had been a wake-up call, a reminder that he couldn't put off saying the important things to the people who mattered most. 

"Felt myself get hit, saw Ben come tumbling after. Then saw Craig go down. Figured I might 'ave waited too long, thought I might not 'ave another chance to say it. Didn't want that. Wanted you both to know," he'd ended that rather sheepish explanation.

And whatever else was said, what response he'd been given, that was between the three of them. But one thing they'd promised themselves, promised each other. That they weren't going to leave the important things unsaid, never again. Never again were any of them going to wait for the 'perfect day', the 'perfect' opportunity, the 'perfect' words. 'Today' was just going to have to be perfect enough.


End file.
